Little Big Things
by Nysrina
Summary: (AU) Burgeoning attraction, one sense at a time.
1. Keenest Nose

**Disclaimer**: I own none of them.

**Author's note:** I don't think perfumers would blithely let anyone outside their employment circle smell and critique their drafts. However, I beg you to suspend disbelief and enjoy, ja? Sesshoumaru might be a little OOC here. Just a little. But you will like him like this, I wager.

As per usual, any and all inaccuracies pertaining to the spectacular world of chemistry and chemicals are entirely due to my own ignorance. Science has never been my strongest suit.

**Summary: (A/U)** She wants to create a perfume that would charm the olfactory senses of all males, but he likes her individual scent just fine.

* * *

**Keenest Nose**

The sight that greeted Sesshoumaru when he padded silently into the kitchen was an odd one. There was a strange woman huddling against Miroku, and Miroku's nose was hovering too closely to her neck. It would not be so odd had he stumbled on this scene before Miroku met Sango and became enamoured with her. Miroku can be quite charming and popular with the ladies, after all; and he still is, though he conducts himself with restraint now. It was bizarre because not three feet away was Sango, fussing over the stove, as if the damning tableau wasn't happening within the same parameter as herself. It was bizarre because, despite the rather compromising postures of the pair, he could not smell any incriminating odours. The fragrance of food simmering over fire, mingling with individual scents and perfumes, layered over household smells, traces of the outdoors... that's all. Nothing wanton was happening there.

He sidled past the couple and snuck a glance at them as he passed. The young woman had tilted her head to the side, her wavy hair tumbling over one shoulder. She was offering her neck to Miroku, who wore a look of concentration on his face as he took deep, measured breaths.

"You permit such behaviour?" Sesshoumaru asked Sango quietly, cocking his head at the other male, as he leaned against the cabinet. Sango would drop by occasionally to make them dinner, something Sesshoumaru appreciated greatly for she was an excellent cook.

"Oh, hi, Sesshoumaru," Sango greeted with a smile. "That happens from time to time. He is Kagome's consultant, sort of."

"Hnn." _Interesting._

Noting Sesshoumaru's suspicious scrutiny, Sango giggled. "Kagome's my good friend from high school. It's nothing to worry about."

The pair pulled away from one another just then and began conferring.

"Floral and flirty. I'd say it's too girly to tout itself as 'woman'. Perhaps you need something to balance it out... you know, give it some impression of sultry depth?" Miroku said thoughtfully as the young woman scribbled onto the notepad that laid on the kitchen table before her. "It is pleasant enough by itself, but it's not quite sexy yet."

"I think you might be right, Miroku," Kagome concurred slowly. "That was my initial thought on it. But I do appreciate your opinion, always." She continued writing in the little notebook. "Perhaps I can work on variations of this theme."

Miroku caught Sesshoumaru's eye.

"Sesshoumaru, this is Kagome. Kagome, this is Sesshoumaru, my friend and tenant."

"Hello," Kagome looked up and extended a hand. Her smile was sweet, guileless, and whatever unsavoury opinion he had been forming about her at the outset was gently displaced. Sesshoumaru crossed the kitchen and took her proffered hand. He wrapped his large clawed hand carefully around her smaller appendage and shook it gently. Noting his perplexity, she declared with a laugh, "It's not what it looks like, Sesshoumaru."

Sesshoumaru held up his hands and shook his head as she began to elucidate.

"Only if you feel that you need to explain yourself, Kagome."

"I work for a perfumer," Kagome clarified. "Whenever we get a brief to compose a perfume, I would let Miroku, among others, test my drafts. Call them my guinea pigs, if you will. They would tell me if there was anything lacking. You know our mutual friend here is an _expert_ on what makes a woman alluring."

"I see. Though... don't you think you need someone a little more discriminating? Miroku thinks almost all women are alluring."

A knowing light crept into Kagome's eyes.

"Why do you think Miroku singled out Sango from the rest, then?"

Sesshoumaru offered the first thing that came to his head, "Her extraordinary culinary skills?"

"_Thank_ you, Sesshoumaru," Sango chimed in wryly.

"That," Kagome said in a conspiring tone, "came later. I let Sango wear one of my final drafts as an experiment. Miroku complimented her on it and the rest is..." she gestured at her friends. "That composition became quite popular once it was manufactured and sold."

"Hnn. Fair enough."

"She wants to be a shamaness of scent," Miroku chortled.

"Oh yeah," Kagome enthused, perching herself on her chair. "It would be the ultimate mayhem, you know - to create a perfume that would make any woman utterly irresistible. I would love to turn all the wallflowers into Ono no Komachi. A sniff is all it takes to bewitch the male olfactory senses. Wouldn't that be wicked?" She leaned forward and bared the side of her neck to him. "Not to seem too brazen or anything, but would you care to take a whiff? Tell me what you think?"

Sesshoumaru obliged gamely. Leaning on his elbows, he inhaled. Then he sat back and exhaled gently through slightly parted lips. Kagome watched with interest as his amber eyes sharpened, then grew distant, his mind turning inwards as he dissected the information carried on the breath he had drawn in. He could smell a myriad of aromas on her. _Hmm.. shampoo, soap, mouthwash, miso... is that temple incense I smell?_ He tuned out the rest and focused on the recently applied perfume.

"I'm afraid I have to disagree with Miroku, but this is merely my personal preference," Sesshoumaru said.

"Go ahead," Kagome prodded encouragingly.

"_He_ may like it sultry, but I find light or mild fragrances agreeable on the fairer sex. I am partial to fragrances that give the impression of freshness and purity. I could accept the fragrance as it is now." Then, to Kagome's enormous astonishment, he grinned and proceeded to name the chemical compounds that went into the fragrance bases, fixatives, modifiers and the mind-boggling array of blenders she had used to draft this composition.

"Oh, my goodness!" Kagome gasped, slapping her palms against both her cheeks. "You are amazing. No, you're _beyond_ amazing!"

"I am youkai. Inuyoukai, to be exact."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're not working with a rival perfumer, are you?"

"Most definitely not."

Kagome threw up her hands dramatically. "You canines have the keenest noses in creation! Oh man, if my employers know of you, I am _so_ jobless. And that is why you prefer milder scents, isn't it?" What he didn't tell her was, that beneath the delightful artificial bouquet she had asked him to smell, her personal scent was far, far more bewitching - it was healthy, vibrant and as unsullied as it could be for a person living in these polluted times - and he rather not to have it masked by interfering smells.

Sesshoumaru couldn't help chuckling at her mock distress. "I'm not interested in creating artificial scents, so you need not worry about me taking your job away from you."

"Doesn't it get overwhelming out there?" Kagome asked, tapping her nose significantly.

"I learned to tune out everyday smells."

"What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a lecturer at the university."

"Let me guess - chemistry related?"

A smirk and a nod was her answer. "Forensic toxicology, to be exact. Keeping abreast of the subdisciplines in chemistry is a hobby."

"I cannot be more impressed that I already am," Kagome exclaimed laughingly. _Extreme good looks and brains, some creatures have it all._

"Don't hate me because I'm perfect," Sesshoumaru deadpanned, netting himself another bright laugh from her. Her scent shifted and fluctuated tellingly, causing him to blink. On top of that, something primeval inside himself was stirring in response. _Oh my, that was... unexpected._

One more thing he did not divulge was the fact that he was sometimes consulted in police investigations, especially in cases which seemed to have reached dead-ends. With his background, expertise and, as Kagome described it, the keenest nose in creation, he was a walking laboratory. Fortunately, such instances were few and far between. Humans are proud of their technology; unless they had no other alternative, they preferred to use it instead of an expensive, anonymous youkai consultant. He was not about to disclose that aspect of his life to a virtual stranger, albeit an engaging one.

Miroku left his seat and began setting the table, brushing aside Kagome's offer to help. Sango nudged Kagome over to the chair next to Sesshoumaru, claiming her seat beside Miroku. Dinner was served and conversations moved to common grounds. Sesshoumaru found his new acquaintance good dinner company, with her quirky sense of humour and wit. Not to mention she was pleasant to look at and that her scent stayed warm and inviting all evening.

"Pardon me, guys... Say, Sesshoumaru," Kagome turned to him suddenly, disrupting the flow of conversation, "the next time I draft a new scent, would you like to sniff me and tell me your opinion?"

_Did she say what she just did?_

"Hey, that's _my_ privilege," Miroku interjected, eyes wide with contrived hurt.

Sesshoumaru did not answer immediately. In the expectant silence that descended over the quartet, he continued chewing the current mouthful of Sango's delicious lasagna before swallowing with some difficulty. His throat had gone dry the moment her question and all its illicit implications registered, so he reached for his water glass and took a sip. Across the table, Miroku was watching him with a cunning glint in his violet eyes.

To be able to bury his nose in her neck and immerse himself in that scintillating scent again and again? He was being offered a sensuist's heaven on a platter. _Carpe diem, and why not?_

"It would be an honour to assist you in any way, Kagome," Sesshoumaru answered at last.


	2. Crowning Glory

**Disclaimer**: I own none of them.

**Author's note:** A response to Priestess Skye's weekly challenge at Dokuga, "Blossom", back in 2009. Hopefully, I've met the requirements of this challenge.

A fellow Dokugan, Andi, said in her reviews that she'd love to see 'Keenest Nose' expanded. Her comment stayed with me, but I couldn't really move forward from that one-shot until the challenge came up. I'll _try_ to take this somewhere. I only hope I won't flag, fall and disappoint. And I'll try to make it happy.

Just a little warning again, Sesshoumaru is a little OOC, and I'm not particularly good at writing warm, fuzzy stories.

**Summary: (A/U)** A haircut and curious fingers make a dangerous combination.

* * *

**Crowning Glory**

Over the months, dinner at Miroku's place became something of a custom for the four friends. While it all began with Kagome making infrequent appointments with Miroku and Sesshoumaru to test out her drafts, with time, the dinners simply gave the friends a reason to spend some hours together at least once a fortnight. Kagome still brought her work to the dinner table for her two favourite critiques to comment on, though not all her assignments had to do with composing fine fragrances; sometimes she brought rough proposals of new scents for detergents or other less glamorous, but rather necessary, household products. Occasionally, not all of them could be present to grace the table, as it was in the case that evening, when personal or professional constraints interfered in their plans.

"Sesshoumaru's late," Miroku commented as he moved about setting plates on the table.

"Yeah," Kagome chimed as she filled the water glasses. "He would usually call you, wouldn't he, if he's held up?"

Just then, they heard Miroku's mobile phone trilling melodiously from the living room.

"That was our friend. He's not able to join us tonight," Miroku announced a while later. "He's quite busy with preparing seminar materials. Or something to that effect."

Though short of one companion, dinner was still a lively affair, and they lingered over dessert at the kitchen table, talking and teasing. Afterwards, Miroku shooed the women out of the kitchen and set about cleaning the dishes. From the living room, he could hear the two women chatting animatedly, intermittent laughter peppering their lively conversation. _Undeniably, that is a pleasant sound_, Miroku decided somewhat contentedly as he dipped his hands in soapy water. And he was quite certain that he'd like to make the owner of one of those voices a permanent fixture in his life, someday.

Just as he was drying and putting away the last of the dishes, he heard the deep, throbbing rumble of Sesshoumaru's SuperFour in the driveway.

A rather shrill exclamation from one of the women brought Miroku hastily into the living room. There, he found Kagome staring at a bewildered Sesshoumaru, who stood unmoving at the threshold of the door, helmet in hand. Her eyes were impossibly wide and her mouth was a perfect circle.

"What," she asked at last, pointing at the youkai with a shaking finger, "did you _do_ to your hair?"

Sesshoumaru's long, luxuriant mane had been reduced to a trendy crop. Sesshoumaru unfroze himself and rolled his eyes at her. He shrugged out of his jacket and loosened his tie, chuckling lightly. Miroku and Sango exchanged a look of amusement across the room. It wasn't the first time their youkai friend had a haircut. By the end of a few weeks, though, his hair would be waist-long again. Sometimes they asked him if there was a point in shearing off his hair only to have it grow back at such a speed.

"Is it a disaster?" he asked lightly.

"No, but that's not the point. Most human women would kill to have hair like yours. How could you blithely cut it off?" Kagome retorted.

"Why didn't you say so? I would have saved my tresses and have it made into a wig for you." He deftly caught the cushion she aimed at his face.

"Hey, take it outside, you two," Miroku quipped. "I inherited this house from my grandfather and I'd prefer not to have it destroyed."

Sesshoumaru tossed the cushion back at Kagome, catching her squarely in the face and sauntered off into the kitchen for a drink.

"Sesshoumaru," Sango called after him. "I saved some dinner for you."

"Thank you, Sango. I will have that later," came the faint reply.

"What a pity," Kagome muttered, hugging the cushion against her chest.

"It'll grow back really soon, Kagome," Sango's voice took on a teasing edge. "Why are you so bothered, anyway?"

Kagome was saved from answering, and potentially embarrassing herself, by Sesshoumaru's reappearance. The youkai sat himself in one of the armchairs, and made desultory small talk with the ladies. He noticed, however, Kagome's eyes straying upwards past his forehead whenever she looked at him. _Anytime now..._

"Do you mind if I…?" Kagome asked hesitantly, apropos of nothing on the current subject, gesturing in the direction of his head.

"Curiosity killed the cat," he said archly.

"If you are going to kill me for such trespass, then I'll die satisfied, at least."

Sesshoumaru sighed and got off his chair_._ He knelt on one knee before Kagome and bent his head, offering her his crown. Sango pressed a hand against her mouth, not quite stifling a snort of laughter.

"Knock yourself out," he muttered in resignation.

"It's only fair," she replied cheekily. "I let you _sniff _me periodically."

She swept her fingers gently over his new cut once, then burrowed her digits a little deeper for a second feel.

"Oh, _wow_. So soft…" she murmured, fluffing the silver strands. "I still think it's a shame, you know."

The fine hairs at the back of his neck and arms were standing, and it was all he could do not to close his eyes at the electric, buzzing pleasure her touch evoked. What is hair but the extension of skin? And what is skin but the point of interface with the world, an encompassing receiver of stimulus? Rin-chan, his half-brother's adorable little girl, often played with his hair when it was long. When he mangled his left arm in a motorcycle accident, Sango – bless her - had helped him wash his hair before he recovered the use of his limb. And he could remember the lazy evenings when he was a little youkai, he would lean on his stepmother's lap, ear pressed against her swollen belly as he listened to his half-brother's rapid heart. Izayoi-san would thread her soft fingers through his hair, humming tunelessly in contentment. But that was different, and brought different kinds of pleasure and comfort. _This_ was certainly something else. He was neither promiscuous nor a celibate, though it has been a few years since he had a steady lover. He was not without admirers; he just hadn't found someone engaging enough to spend his time and affections on. Kagome's touch was chaste and driven by curiosity, but his internal response was not so pure.

Somewhat discomfited, he tried to distract himself, eyes landing on Kagome's other hand draped on the sofa's armrest. She wore a ring with small brilliant semi-precious stones, arranged in a cluster to form a flower. The tiny shards of hard light sparking from the gems failed to divert him. Or the fact that she had painted her nail a delicate pink and decorated them with frivolous floral nail art decals. Deciding that she had indulged herself enough, he slowly ducked out from under her hand and settled back into his seat. Kagome was grinning widely, and he couldn't help but smile lopsidedly in return.

As he laid down to rest that night, Sesshoumaru was not too surprised to find himself imagining the phantom caress of Kagome's inquisitive fingers on his scalp and hair, and how much he'd like to feel _that_ again. Shrugging mentally, he turned on his side and attempted to sleep, trying unsuccessfully not to think too much.

These times were different from the era of his forefathers; after centuries of discord, human and youkai finally discovered that the worth of a peaceful coexistence far outweighed one full of strife. Friendships, alliances and business partnerships were forged easily enough once the two species came to an accord, and while intermarriages and relationships between the two species were not uncommon, they were still few. The emotional cost and physical risk of such unions were high. A youkai's aging generally slowed down after their fortieth or fiftieth year and if they have human or hanyou spouses, they would survive their spouses by a century or more. Some youkai – certain birds especially - marry for life and would live out their days alone after their husbands or wives passed on. Hanyou have it easier if they settled down with humans, but not by much. They would not live as long as a pure youkai, yet still longer than humans. Then there was the medical issue of human mothers carrying and birthing hanyou babies…

_I'm getting ahead of myself,_ he thought resolutely. _If this is what I think it is, and… if this is mutual, would I have the courage to see it through? _

Something had budded and blossomed on his part, that much was certain. He would not deny she was rather attractive, in a bright, perky way. Superficial appeal aside, he found her likeable at the end of their first encounter, and as their friendship steadily grew, he _could not_ refute that he welcomed and wanted something more.

Lying supine once again, Sesshoumaru sighed softly in the darkness. _How does chichi-ue do it, knowing that someday he would have to face years and years alone before he follows Izayoi-san?_

Somewhere not too far away, Kagome was thinking of the baby-soft feel of his ivory locks and furtively wondering – half in embarrassment, half in agonized yearning - about the feel of his ivory skin.


	3. Blindsided

**Disclaimer**: I only own the careless driver and the unnamed police officers.

**Author's note (2009):** I drafted this out in mid-July but didn't get round to tidying it up until recently. The accident portrayed in this chapter was based on a real one; it happened at a junction in front of my apartment. At the time, this idea was still vague, and I was looking up accidents and their aftermaths. Uncanny and unfortunate coincidence. Then along came Priestess Skye's "Toxic" challenge, and maybe perhaps this baby sort of kind of could meet the requirements. So, why not enter it for the challenge, eh?

Enjoy! Especially you, Andi. ;)

**Warning: **Sesshoumaru is generally a little OOC in this series.

**Summary: (A/U)** He saw something he wished he didn't and reacted in ways he never expected to.

* * *

**Blindsided**

Scenery, if familiar enough, can be easily passed by without being paid much attention to. Sesshoumaru plied this route often enough to let the jungle of concrete, steel and glass lining the roads, with its restless streams of pedestrians ebbing and swelling on the pavements, blur on the edges of his vision. But not today. From a distance, the whirling orange light atop the large white and red ambulance cautioned drivers and riders toslow down and proceed with caution_._ The normally smooth flow of traffic had been disrupted; the currents of crowds had been slowed down, dammed by a pack of onlookers gathered around the paramedics on the pavement.

A car was positioned near the opening of the concrete divider between the roads; the opening allowed u-turns and traffic to exit or enter car parks in the buildings. The gleaming black sedan sat perpendicular to the directions of traffic on both sides. There was a cream Vespa with shiny silver trimmings lying on its side nearby. By the looks of it, the two had collided while the car was making a u-turn, or while it was trying to join the traffic on this side after exiting a building close by. Three police officers were at the scene; one of them was talking to the driver of the car - a elder panther youkai in a creased suit - who, according to Sesshoumaru's judgment, exuded guilt and nervousness. A woman's mule laid upside down on the warm surface of the road, heel pointing accusingly at the sky, as if demanding the Kami to point out what its owner did wrong to deserve this misfortune. One of the officers was collecting two distinctly feminine shoulder bags, a notebook bag, a folder and papers, and other personal effects that had been scattered, thrown out of the Vespa's box during the accident. It seemed that the rider and the pillion of the scooter were female.

He was not one to slow down and gape at accidents, but in this case, Sesshoumaru was forced to decelerate and navigate carefully through the two-lane carriageway as the ambulance took up half of one lane and the vehicles involved took up half of the other lane, leaving a gap just enough for a good-sized car or van to pass through if it straddled the broken white line carefully. As he rolled slowly through the site, Sesshoumaru caught a familiar scent on the languid, exhaust-laden, scent-infused breeze. _Kagome._ He slowed down further and chanced a glance at the crowd on the pavement, hoping to catch a glimpse of her; perchance he could be the gallant gentleman and offer her a ride home. And when he saw her, he half-wished he hadn't taken that look.

Oh, she was on the pavement, that was for sure. But she wasn't among the many curious faces he saw peering at the spectacle on the road. She was, in fact, lying prone between the two efficient paramedics. One of them held her head steady while the other fastened the cervical collar around her neck.

Sesshoumaru felt his blood turn into ice. He felt oddly light-headed and there was a strange buzzing in his ears. _Oh Kami, no... Not her._

Carefully, he maneuvered his Honda towards the edge of the pavement, dismounting hurriedly from the motorcycle even before it was switched off. Turning, he sprinted to where Kagome was, discarding his helmet along the way, not caring where it landed as it thudded soundly onto the concrete.

His sudden appearance startled the paramedics. One of them, a tall, large-boned horse hanyou - _Jinenji_, his nametag read - eyed Sesshoumaru's frowning, worried visage with some concern.

"Sir?" Jinenji drawled softly. "Do you know this lady?"

Sesshoumaru seemed not to have heard the question, his eyes raking anxiously over Kagome. Motorcycle riders and pillion passengers have the greatest risk of spinal and neck injuries in an accident; a fair number of riders who survived crashes ended up paralyzed. Her left arm had been immobilized in a splint; he surmised that she might have fractured or broken the bones in that arm. Up close, he noticed details about her: the way the sunlight burnished her wavy black hair with copper and auburn, how her lashes fanned over her cheekbones and how soft her lips seemed. It was the oddest time to appreciate her natural attributes, to study her without being studied in return. The pants suit with its long-sleeved jacket she was wearing offered her some protection from abrasion, but it was soiled in places and torn near the left knee, nonetheless.

Jinenji repeated his question, in a louder and firmer tone this time. The amber eyes snapped to attention, locking on his large brown ones.

"She is..." Sesshoumaru faltered, and drew a deep, steadying breath. "She is a good friend." He wished he could claim for certain she was something more than that.

The horse hanyou nodded sympathetically.

"What happened?" Sesshoumaru demanded.

"I heard the driver did not turn on his signal before he made the u-turn. And he turned too fast, trying to cut ahead of the scooter but he misjudged and collided into these ladies."

As far as Sesshoumaru was concerned, it was careless, reckless driving. And it caused Kagome injury. Something alien, yet oddly familiar, throbbed inside his chest. Something newborn, yet curiously innate, roared in his head. Something snapped.

One moment the pale-haired youkai was there, crouching before the injured woman, the next he was not, gone in a massive swell of youki and rage. The large horse hanyou whipped his head around, registering the commotion around the vicinity of the vehicles involved. The youkai was holding the sedan's driver aloft, his long fingers wrapped around the other's throat. The panther youkai was struggling and clawing at the striped wrist with futility; the viselike hold did not lessen even when blood was drawn. Sesshoumaru had one arm pulled back, poised to strike, butcher hook fingers glowing a dangerous green as toxic vapours rose in lazy tendrils. The officers had drawn their weapons, but did not take aim; one of them, a wolf youkai, his tail straight and bristling, was ordering the furious male to calm down and release the driver. All three uniformed males had the same thought running through their minds: _bullets will not stop this guy; he's too damned _powerful.

Sesshoumaru's crushing waves of youki caused those with youkai heritage to disperse with astonishing speed. Humans sensitive to the presence and fluctuations of mystical energies cringed as the angry surges battered their spiritual centers. They edged away cautiously, while the rest hurried to put some distance between themselves and the youkai, simply alarmed by the sight of a fellow creature so incensed, the handsome face twisted into a rictus of barely curbed fury. Vehicles slowed down or sped up, depending on whether their operators where startled or intrigued.

The wolf youkai took a step forward and gently shook the tense arm, still drawn back with murderous intent. _It's like touching living steel,_ the officer thought, forcing down his own sliver of fear. The feral gaze turned to pin the officer with an awful stare. For a moment, the officer thought his days were numbered; his other hand tightened around his standard issue firearm, ready to whip up and fire. _If I survive this, I will suggest the bullets they issue us be somehow imbued with the ability to seal youki, at least!_ Then the eyes blinked and widened in confusion. As if he suddenly realised the enormity of his actions, Sesshoumaru swung his gaze to the youkai still held in his iron grip. He cursed softly. Hastily but gently, he lowered the driver, then his eyes flicked to his own glowing claws as if he was seeing them for the first time. With visible effort, Sesshoumaru strove to corral his aura, forcing his wild emotions down. Inclining his head, he apologized to the gasping driver, who was clutching a very bruised throat. The panther shook his head violently, lifting a hand to wave the apology away.

"It was in your right," the driver rasped between hacking coughs. "I'm sorry about your... your wife... uh, girlfriend?"

Sesshoumaru swiped a hand over his face.

"Friend," he corrected. Never had a word, a title which denoted trust, accountability and a certain measure of bonding, sounded so hollow; he was beginning to get tired of it.

_The dog's got it bad,_ thought the wolf youkai in mild amusement though he wisely kept his own fanged mouth shut on that matter. Out loud, he asked, "Are you all right, sir? Could you notify your friend's family, then?"

Truthfully, Sesshoumaru could not and he told the officer as much. _I don't know her parents, or her kin, nor do I have the means to get hold of them,_ he realised. But he pulled out his mobile phone anyway and dialled Sango's number. Sango answered after two rings, and as he watched the paramedics hoist Kagome into the ambulance on a stretcher, Sesshoumaru relayed the bad news to the woman on the line, listened as her voice rose octaves higher in incredulous panic and concern before he asked her to contact Kagome's kin, if she knew how.

There was nothing more to that needed to be done for now; the parties involved would need to make reports, give statements, liaise with insurance companies and assessment authorities when they were able to later. The police officers urged Sesshoumaru to be on his way, or follow the ambulance to Nishi International Hospital, the closest hospital in the vicinity. Sesshoumaru trudged to his motorcycle, nerves still humming with residual powers, feeling somewhat raw. He noticed that he was given a wide berth by those who had the singular honour of witnessing his display. His senses seemed heightened and he was shocked to find, beneath the clamorous, conflicting feelings, a dark, visceral thrill in the aftermath of this near loss of control. Letting his rage overcome his intellect felt unaccountably_ exhilarating._ What would have happened if he hadn't come to himself when the officer touched him?

Wrapping his fingers around the handlebars, Sesshoumaru let his eyes linger on his right hand. _How ironic,_ he thought, _I teach forensic toxicology and I'm a walking venom producer. I could give my students live demonstrations of deaths by poisoning._

He rode, as fast as speed limits would allow, out of the urban congestion. He would not be going to the hospital. Sango and Miroku would be more than capable to see to do the necessary follow-up. He could find out the extent of Kagome's injuries later; she was in capable hands, he assured himself. As much as he wanted to be near Kagome now, needed to talk to his father first.


	4. The Winged Life

**Disclaimer**: I own none of them, except for the staff at the Nishi household.

**Author's note:** I lost count of how many false starts I've made. Honestly, I've never been this constipated with a chapter before. *sigh* Oh, the chapter title and a line in Inupapa's dialogue allude to a poem. I will give karma to anyone who can name the poet. *winks*

Now, if I ran roughshod over Japanese etiquette in the relations between Izayoi and Sesshoumaru as stepfamily, please let me know. I'm hardly Japanese or else I wouldn't be fumbling about like this. I hope their interaction doesn't come across too idealistic or sappy.

**THANK YOU! **to Andi for giving this a once over, and for being a willing sounding board :)

**Summary: (A/U)** Surprises from the past and fruits do not fall too far from the tree.

* * *

**The Winged Life**

Beyond the edges of the city centre was a buffer zone of interconnected parks boasting shady trees and winding tracks for joggers, cyclists and skaters. In parks were open-air stages floating over large ponds for the occasional performance or festival too. This was the green heart of the city, where its denizens go to temporarily escape the frenetic pace and remember, once upon a time, that the land was not all tar and concrete. Weekends would find families stretched on picnic blankets, the children gambolling in the grass and lovers watching clouds go by. Beyond this oasis was where his father and stepmother lived. It was a district filled with large private houses surrounded by sprawling compounds. A leisurely ride from the city centre to the Nishi estate did not take more than twenty minutes on a good day – close enough for convenience, far enough to be removed from the hubbub.

He made a little detour to the conservation district close to the city centre where quaint low-rise structures of wood, stone and glazed clay tiles had been restored and preserved. The modest, charming buildings housed family-run businesses that were a few generations old. Many of the proprietors lived in the rooms above their shops. There, he patronised a shop, whose deceptively unremarkable appearance belied its popularity, and made a purchase of three beautifully crafted pieces of Izayoi's favourite seasonal sweetmeats. Though humans ran many of the establishments, youkai tenants have revealed themselves to have been around for the same number of generations, and youkai specialty shops were quite popular, especially with tourists.

The maid had opened the door to Sesshoumaru's ringing earlier, greeted him warmly and ushered him within. Natsumi, a long-time staff, informed him that his father was not at home at the moment - something he knew even before the door was opened - and that his stepmother was resting. This was the part of the house where the family actually _lived_, where the spaces were no less tasteful but simply more intimate in scale. Those who were not family, staff or close friends come in from the formal entrance, and were hardly allowed past the internal courtyard that demarcated the two sections – the public and the personal - into the individual rooms beyond. Just outside the doors of Izayoi-san's private sitting room, he paused and frowned. He could sense that Izayoi-san was not well but he lifted his hand and rapped on the door anyway.

"Yes?" came his stepmother's voice from beyond the door.

"It's me, Izayoi-san."

"Come in, come in!"

Izayoi was sitting on her Eileen Gray daybed, cradling a book in hands wrapped in thermal gloves. At fifty-four, she was still trim, reasonably fit and usually gave the impression that she was younger than her actual age. A few years ago, arthritis began plaguing her hands and she had been on prescribed pain relief medication since then. She preferred not to take those too often, favouring heat therapy instead. The smile that graced her face crinkled the edges of her clear brown eyes and Sesshoumaru's sharp vision couldn't help but note that the fine lines that had begun to appear on certain parts of her face. _Too many reminders of their frailty in one day._ He tried not to feel too distressed.

"Izayoi-san," Sesshoumaru greeted as he closed the door. "Forgive me for dropping by unannounced. Are you well?"

Izayoi lifted a gloved hand and waved it, partly to dispel his apologies and partly to display her source of discomfort. "Apart from this, I'm quite well." Abruptly, her delight at his presence and his little present of cakes shifted to alarm when her gaze fell upon his wrist. "Sesshoumaru! What happened to you?"

Sesshoumaru glanced at his forearm. The blood still caked his limb but the furrows that the panther youkai had gouged into his flesh were already healing. The wounds had already crusted over, looking days old instead of less than an hour old.

"It's all right. I'm tougher than I look, you know."

Izayoi shook her head and laid her book aside, giving him a look that made him feel six years old again. She inclined her head in the direction of an armchair of leather and tubular steel, indicating he should sit and start talking or, Kami help him, she would turn him over her knees and spank a confession out of him, whether her hands hurt or not. Never mind the fact that he was twenty-nine and towered thirteen inches over her in his bare feet. Of course, she had never actually laid her hands on him before; 'The Look' did the job just fine as he hated disappointing or upsetting her.

He smiled sheepishly and sat down, gathered his thoughts and recounted what happened just before he arrived. When he was done talking, he leaned back with drooping shoulders, partially relieved to have unburdened his thoughts to her.

"Do you care for the young lady that much?"

Sesshoumaru said nothing, which, to Izayoi, was a gesture that spoke volumes.

"It is in your right to feel and act that way if you do, if you have established a personal relationship with her. Sesshoumaru, we _know_ youkai nature is vastly different from human nature."

Again, he remained silent, eyes averted from her own. _Goodness,_ thought Izayoi with affectionate exasperation, _it's not as if he's a teenager with a crush! Why in the world is he so bothered… and so hesitant?_

"Sesshoumaru," Izayoi began gently, "do you recall the day I brought Inuyasha home from the hospital?"

He remembered. He remembered the anticipation and the excitement brimming over when he saw the car pulling up the long driveway. Izayoi had been detained a full week at the hospital, having had to undergo surgery to deliver Inuyasha. Inuyasha had been a breech baby and a big one. There was no way to force the child out through the birth canal without putting Izayoi at a terrible risk; the cartilage holding the pelvis together at the pubis could give way too much or tear completely. If the latter happened, Izayoi may not be able to walk for a long while. When the his father wheeled Izayoi and Inuyasha into the house, Izayoi's fear and sadness, coupled with Gintaro's grim mood caused Sesshoumaru's ebullient feelings to evaporate, replacing it with dread. The incongruous tang of blood only added to the oddness. His father and stepmother greeted him with game faces and forced smiles, holding him close as they introduced him to his new sibling. Something had distressed the adults, but he wasn't privy to the reason, despite his persistent queries.

"We never told you what happened just before we brought your brother home, did we?"

"Hnn. I've always wondered…" he murmured in response.

The light of the dying sun slanted into the cool room through full-height glass windows, the lurid golden glow diffused by sheer floor-length day curtains and a short, disturbing anecdote almost three decades old unfolded.

"I was waiting for your father at the outdoor atrium of the hospital, looking forward to go home to you; I couldn't wait to get you boys acquainted. The late Kaede-san was with me. Do you remember her?" Sesshoumaru nodded as Izayoi faltered, her lips pressing together tightly for a moment. "We were… accosted… by a group of youkai. They have been waiting for days for my discharge. They surrounded us and called Inuyasha names I do not care to repeat today. They called me…" she sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, shaking her head. "They deemed your father weak for sullying the Nishi bloodline by marrying a human."

Sesshoumaru's fingers curled into fists and an ugly emotion twisted his innards. His gaze was transfixed on the human woman before him; she was the only mother he could remember and she had shown him nothing but kindness and maternal affection, and this revelation set him on edge. He knew that times were certainly quite different then. He had heard enough snide remarks about Izayoi from his maternal grandparents when he was a child, felt the leashed animosity they exuded whenever occasions placed his stepmother and his late mother's parents in the same room. He was sure that a few of Izayoi's friends or kin may have made the same remarks about _his_ family and her marriage to Gintaro Nishi. As he grew older, the unsubtle comments about human influence making the Nishi heir feeble made Sesshoumaru grit his teeth, and he vowed to be strong so he could protect the woman he revered as a parent. The easy acceptance between the two species that his generation took for granted had just taken root then, despite treaties and accords being in place for nearly a century. Back then, there were still vocal factions from both species that did not agree with youkai and human being on equal footing.

"Those youkai became bolder and closed around us. Kaede-san, fearing for Inuyasha and myself, conjured a barrier around us. It turned ugly. They began raising their voices, damning your father for having a miko in his employment. I was so, so scared. People were standing around, staring. No one dared to do anything to intervene, fearing for their own lives."

Kaede-baa-chan's presence had always hummed with an undercurrent of spiritual power and the pieces clicked in Sesshoumaru's head. _So that was why chichi-ue engaged a retired miko to attend to Izayoi-san; she was a bodyguard of a different kind._

"When you father arrived, he ripped into the troublemakers. Someone called the police and when the officers arrived, none of the instigators were conscious and all of them had at least one broken bone or one ruptured organ, I wager." Izayoi's voice dropped to a soft murmur and she leaned forward. "It was terrifying to watch your father toss those youkai around like that. His eyes… his eyes were red and he was _snarling._ I have never seen him in such a rage and I pray I never will again. But I know he still had control of himself… or else they would all be dead." She rubbed a gloved hand against her throat and closed her eyes briefly as if to shut out the image from long ago. "Despite those _ears_ of his, Inuyasha slept through it all."

Sesshoumaru barked out a surprised laugh at her abrupt flippancy, feeling the tension uncoil from his shoulders. _That's just like Inuyasha. And this is just like Izayoi-san to deflect the gravity of the moment, especially when it concerns her own feelings._

"I don't know what your reservations are, Sesshoumaru, but surely it is nothing that cannot be overcome? And I know it is not prejudice that is stopping you." Izayoi's smile was small and somewhat uncertain as she tugged the gloves from her hands. Flexing and curling her fingers, she sighed in relief, glad of that the pain had subsided considerably. She stood up and walked towards the door.

"I'm going to talk to Kayo-san about dinner. You are staying for dinner, right? Your father is bound to be late."

With Inuyasha stationed in a neighbouring country in the region with his family until the end of the year, he was sure Izayoi missed their visits. Sesshoumaru stood too, moving to open the door for her.

"Would I miss the chance to sample Kayo-san's cooking?"

Izayoi made a face at him. "It's a wonder you can eat and not put on an ounce."

"Blame it on youkai metabolism."

"Your young lady better be good in the kitchen," she stated next, in a tone that was half-teasing, half-warning, eliciting a groan from Sesshoumaru. _If she's unravelling you this much, she had better be good to you, or I _will_ turn into the in-law from hell._

"Izayoi-san, I've yet to cross that bridge!"

"Then for the love you bear your dear, aging stepmother, Sesshoumaru, please start crossing the bridge soon. Rin-chan could use cousins."

_Cousins. Plural_. He resisted the urge to wince.

* * *

He sat on a sturdy branch of an old tree, leaning against its solid trunk. Head tilted back, Sesshoumaru contemplated the early evening sky and the surrounding landscape. The tree was one of many that dotted the grounds of his ancestral estate. Situated on lands that were slightly elevated from the surroundings, one could command a quite a view from certain points, especially up on the limbs of these trees. In his childhood days, the trees afforded places to play with Inuyasha; the branches were sturdy enough to bear the rambunctious antics of two children with youkai strength. As they grew older, the trees became places to hide and to think, much like what he was doing now. In the near horizon, he could see the skyscrapers thrusting heavenward, aglow within and without, illuminated by their own lights and the lights of so many streetlamps and signs - a fairytale metropolis from a poet's dream.

He could sense his father coming closer, but before he could jump to the ground to receive his father's presence properly, there was a rush of preternatural wind and his father was already on the branch just above his, swinging his legs smugly.

"Not bad for an old dog, eh?" Gintaro grinned down at his eldest.

"Chichi-ue," Sesshoumaru sat up straighter and inclined his head.

"I heard what happened. And it's not from Izayoi," Gintaro stated matter-of-factly. "When were you going to tell us that you've met a nice young lady?"

_News sure do travel fast,_ Sesshoumaru though wryly, _especially when you're a son of this household._ He declined to answer his father's insinuation, opting instead to ask his own question: "Why are we so drawn to them, when they are such fleeting creatures?"

Gintaro grew solemn and was silent for a considerably long time, his thoughts gravitating to the ancestor that his eldest son was named after.

High up in the Nishi family tree was a renowned youkai lord, born almost a millennia ago – the first Lord of the Dogs. Ironically, through this ancestor's iron-fisted rule, there was peace and stability in the lands, and while he had human subjects, his indifference to them bordered on aversion. He left them well alone, passing judgement only when he needed to. Other than that, he neither persecuted them nor protected them. Records, in form of half-complete tales and myths, spoke of a dark threat rising in the kingdom - a human, bent on usurping power in all and any forms, had absorbed a horde of youkai into his soul and became a deceitful, murdering hanyou.

As the tales went, Lord Sesshoumaru of the distant past personally set out to hunt and destroy this threat to his kingdom. In a battle against this dark hanyou's minions, the sheer number of his opponents overwhelmed the lord, but he was saved from certain fate by timely arrows fired by a powerful young miko, which decimated the youkai army greatly. She, too, was hunting the hanyou; in his quest to become powerful, the hanyou had killed many of the miko's friends, family and fellow villagers. Under normal circumstances, the lord would have dismissed her presence and went on his quest alone, confident of his victory. But he had felt the intensity of her powers and recognised that she could be a tool for the hanyou's destruction. The two went through many trials together in their mission, and as time went by, tenuous alliance became grudging tolerance, which in turn grew into tentative respect and admiration, which, at last, became something both felt intensely but could never act upon or give tongue to. In the end, the youkai lord and the miko vanquished the evil hanyou together and went their separate ways. After all, he was a dog spirit and she was a priestess. They both have duties to fulfil. Besides, whoever heard of a youkai lord and a miko consorting? It was just not done.

The lord took a noble youkai lady as his wife and tried to put the miko from his mind. He ruled for many decades, until one day, he heard from gossip and hearsay that his one-time comrade and his life-long secret love, the miko, had passed on to the next world. On that day, he ceded his title to his first-born son and left the palace. Beyond that day, there were no more tales of the fearsome Lord Sesshoumaru.

_It seemed that the dogs lords are doomed from the very start,_ Gintaro thought as his mind spun around the old, old stories.

"How do you deal with it, chichi-ue?" Sesshoumaru's voice pulled Gintaro from his reverie.

"Don't mourn them before they're gone, my son. If you seek to bind a joy to yourself, it will only make you miserable."

When his words were met with silence from the branch below, Gintaro locked his knees and flipped backwards so that he was hanging upside down on the branch like a trapeze artist, almost nose to nose with Sesshoumaru.

"And since you are so aware that they have relatively brief lives, stop dragging your feet and wasting time." With that, he somersaulted off the branch, landing neatly on his feet and began to walk back to the house, pausing to toss a command over his shoulder. "Invite her over for dinner. _Soon._"

There was little to stand in his way, except for his own vacillation. If there was even a remote chance that Kagome would go through what his stepmother did in the first decade or so of her married life, then he'd rather not subject her to it. But Kagome will not be subjected to the prejudice Izayoi had suffered and if anyone dared to… well… he would gladly rectify such situations with his _personal_ touch.

Sesshoumaru closed his eyes and pictured the few other women had ever gone out with in place of Kagome, lying injured on the pavement. Had it been any of them, Sesshoumaru would be anxious enough for their health but doubted that he would have gone as far as to wanting to gut the one who harmed her. And it was not because he was cavalier with those women. In the end, every one of those relationships would plateau and they would part ways. Sometimes he would initiate the end, sometimes they would.

Finding out the depth of his regard for Kagome in this manner was startling, to put it mildly…

What else had Sesshoumaru expected to hear from his father, besides words that summarized Gintaro's acceptance of such an eventuality? There was nothing anyone could do to cheat the final parting, and there was really no use dwelling on it so much so that it impeded all action.

With a sigh, he pulled out his phone, dialled Kagome's number and stretched himself along the length of the near horizontal branch. Her mobile phone survived the impact, it seemed. It rang once, twice, thrice... then _her_ voice, somewhat fuzzy and huskier than usual, answered.

Sesshoumaru smiled up into the night sky and wished Kagome a good evening.


	5. Hearts By Porchlight

**Disclaimer**: I own none of them.

**Author's note:** My apologies for the late update. Any inaccuracies with regard to fractures, treatment of fractures, social etiquette, chemistry within _and_ between two bodies are entirely due to my own ignorance. If you can spot the tweaking of facts anywhere, please keep it to yourself. *winks* Also, this chapter, like the chapters I've posted thus far, is unbeta-ed, so watch out for the occasional error.

**Warning: **Sesshoumaru is generally a little OOC in this series.

**Summary: (A/U)** Examining hearts by porch light.

* * *

**Hearts By Porch Light**

The doorbell rang just as she finished drying the last of the crockery from the late dinner. Putting aside the porcelain bowl and dishcloth, Mrs Higurashi untied her apron, hung it on its designated hook and went to open the front door. The polite smile on her face belied her curiosity at the first sight of the youkai stranger standing on the porch. He was a striking creature - long pale hair and equally pale complexion contrasted with the dark clothes he wore. The marks on his face and wrists stood out boldly against the light canvas of his skin. Greetings and introductions were exchanged and Sesshoumaru explained his presence to Kagome's mother. The polite smile that Mrs Higurashi wore grew a little wider as she was handed the basket of peaches. Expressing genuine appreciation of the gift, the lady of the house duly invited him within. Sesshoumaru declined courteously, saying that he liked the serene atmosphere of the shrine grounds and didn't mind being outdoors. Mrs Higurashi did not press him; instead, she went to inform Kagome that she had a visitor.

Sesshoumaru sensed Kagome's fleeting surprise the moment she opened the door; he did not say he was coming to see her when he called earlier. Her step faltered at the threshold before she came forward, yet he did not get up, merely waited for her to reach him in her own time. His whole demeanour was relaxed: body leaning forward, elbows propped on his knees and hands hanging loosely between his long thighs. The sleeves of his wine-coloured shirt were rolled up to his elbows and Kagome noted, as she drew nearer, that he had beautifully toned forearms. _But of course_, she thought with some irritation, _nothing about him can be unbeautiful. It's enough to give me an inferiority complex._

"Hey," she greeted. "Why don't you come inside?"

"I'm fine here, thank you."

"You haven't been _inside_ the Higurashi house. You might like it finer," she couldn't help teasing.

Eyes like twin suns slid sideways to give her a glance of fondness and annoyance.

"Sit down already, Kagome," Sesshoumaru sighed. Laughing at his exasperation, Kagome lowered herself slowly next to her visitor.

"Thank you for coming to see me," she said. "And thank you for the peaches. I don't think I can bear to eat them though. The hamper is too pretty."

Wherefore Sesshoumaru loved his stepmother so; Izayoi-san had cornered him just before he left his father's house and handed him the basket of peaches, an impromptu visiting gift she had put together. The peaches were from his family's larder, the basket they were put in, the pale netting cloth that was used to wrap it up and the length of dark green satin ribbon holding the bundle close were both dug out from storage – bits and pieces saved from gifts she had received or projects she had indulged herself in. Sesshoumaru had thanked her for the trouble and remarked that he could have picked up something on his way to see Kagome.

"Yes, you could pick something up, Sesshoumaru. However, a gift has more meaning when you can _make_ one," Izayoi had replied. "I would have made a gift of one of the yubari melons, but it's a bit much for a first visit, don't you think so?"

Now that he thought about it, though, Sesshoumaru realized that he never mentioned his destination to Izayoi when he took leave of his elders. Sesshoumaru suspected that his father must have eavesdropped on his conversation with Kagome, somehow.

"So this is where you grew up," Sesshoumaru gestured at the surroundings.

"Mm-hmm," Kagome nodded. "I lived here most of my life."

"Did you ever serve this shrine as a miko?" he asked, genuinely curious. She was quiet for so long that he thought she must have not heard his question. On her part, Kagome was wondering uneasily if being a former miko would cause him to keep his distance.

"I did, until I went to college," she answered. "I had a knack of sensing anomalous auras or presences. Grandpa is the shrine's priest and he trained me since I was young. I guess I'm a little rusty now; it's been so long since I donned the garb on a regular basis. While I am still sensitive to spiritual energies, I think my powers are quite dormant now. But I've never done anything beyond assisting in rituals or manning the gift shop and, upon my honour, I've never, ever purified anyone or caused any youkai any harm in my life, by accident or otherwise," she added in a rush.

"Hn. It'll be interesting to find out how much damage you can do to _me_," Sesshoumaru smirked at her defensive tone. For as long as he knew her, he had never really felt any significant amount of spiritual power coming from her, other than the normal range of energy that all living beings possessed.

"I would never…" she began, eyes wide in horror. When she realised that he was pulling her leg, she muttered, "Then again, maybe I should… It'll be interesting to find out how you would look with singed eyebrows."

Sesshoumaru scoffed at her threat, flipping back a lock of long hair that had fallen over his shoulder in a dismissive gesture.

"Hey," Kagome nudged him. "Sign my cast?" She offered the immobilized forearm, grinning toothily. The fingers that peeped out from the cast looked a little swollen, a sign that her body was hard at work repairing the damage. Sesshoumaru lips curved into a tiny smile. Gently, he took her arm and laid it along the length of his own right arm, stabilizing the two limbs on his thigh.

"Don't you need a marker or something?" Kagome asked curiously.

"No."

With the claw his left index finger, Sesshoumaru began carving carefully into the hardened plaster. Kagome chuckled softly.

"Are you left-handed?" she asked after watching him quietly for some moments.

"Ambidextrous," he murmured.

Kagome made a noise of mock disgust in her throat. "But of course. I bet you can write with your toes too."

"Perhaps."

When he finished carving his name and well-wishes, Kagome bent down to admire his work, unwilling to break the physical contact. It was just as well for Sesshoumaru was equally unwilling to let her go. The characters were small, precise and neat. "Lovely," she sighed happily.

"What's the damage?" Sesshoumaru asked, touching the cast again.

"I have an incomplete fracture in the ulna - whatever that is - that's what the doctor said," Kagome shifted and tapped his striped forearm to indicate the fractured bone with a finger. Her digit glided over his skin and stopped at the point where the injury was approximately located. The feather-light touch tickled and tempted and Sesshoumaru held his breath. "Here. It's partially broken here. I flew half-way across the road and landed _hard _on it. I must have tried to break my fall. I don't remember anything more after that."

"Any other damages?"

"Bruised knee and shoulder, minor abrasions here and there. Oh, I lost one of my shoes – cost me a quite a sum, that pair. Not to mention my beautiful, expensive bag was scuffed and dirtied."

Sesshoumaru snorted at her flippancy. The mandatory law that required all motorcyclists and pillion riders to wear a safety helmet was probably the chief reason she was not in a coma or dead.

"How long were you granted medical leave?"

"A week. Mama insisted that I stay here until my medical leave is over."

She drew a breath, hesitant about the subject she was about to bring up next.

"Sesshoumaru," she began timidly. "Earlier, at the hospital, an officer who came to take my statement mentioned that you were there, at the scene of the accident… and he told me what happened between yourself and the driver who caused the collision." Kagome paused and turned her head to study his profile. His eyes were steady, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular, but a muscle in his jaw ticked. Her nervousness evaporated somewhat and Kagome couldn't help the small, smug smile that tugged at her lips, born from the knowledge that she could have so much impact and influence over him. When she spoke next, her tone was light and teasing. "Should I be flattered that you went ballistic for my sake?"

When Sesshoumaru finally peered down at her upturned face, he could see the ghost of a smile gracing her lips and the hope in her lambent eyes. He pulled back from her, freeing the arm that lay between them. As he did so, he saw the ripple of confusion and disappointment flicker across her expression, sudden as a koi in a still pond, and felt a moment of victory.

Sesshoumaru draped the recently liberated arm around Kagome's shoulders and gave her a brief squeeze. His eyelids slid shut as he rested his chin on the crown of her head. Surreptitiously, he drew in her clean, bright scent.

"Yes, you _should_ be flattered," he murmured. Pressed against his throat and chest like that, Kagome could feel the words vibrating against her cheek. "I'm sorry I wasn't at the hospital. I had to speak to my father about certain matters."

"That's all right," Kagome said, her words sounding thin and breathy. She was giddy from the unexpected intimate gesture and the emotional implications his words held. "Will you get into trouble with that driver?"

In response, Sesshoumaru gave a careless shrug of his shoulders. "Maybe. Maybe not. I will deal with that if I have to; there is no need for you to worry."

Absently, Sesshoumaru moved his hand up and down Kagome's upper arm in slow, soothing strokes. The firm, comforting caresses invited her to lean a little more heavily against him.

"It was… unpleasant, seeing you like that," Sesshoumaru remarked suddenly, his voice low and grave.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Seeing you lying on the pavement, unconscious and injured… it made me angry and afraid."

_What does one say to that? _It wasn't the first time someone had ever professed his affections for her, but this was not quite the same. Perhaps it was because none of the males she dated before had ever seen her in such a vulnerable state or acted with the violent fury of an avenging angel on her behalf? Or could it be the echoes of old taboos against a relationship between youkai and humans, especially a miko, even if it was a former miko, heightened the imagined gratification found at the end? She would never know for sure. All she knew now was that Sesshoumaru's words simultaneously humbled and thrilled her, made her feel powerful and timorous. So she said nothing, trying to get a grip on the feelings that were both old and new, letting the hypnotic movement of his hand lull her into drowsy contentment.

They have danced this dance before, with other partners; they were familiar with the rhythm and the footwork. They knew where it could lead and where it might not.

By and by, Kagome felt a yawn coming and tried her best to stifle it; it had been a long day and the nap she took prior to receiving Sesshoumaru's call did not really refresh her. Even so, she fought the fatigue, trying to stay as long as she could in Sesshoumaru's company.

"I think it is best you get some rest," Sesshoumaru said, patting her shoulder.

"You are right. Thank you for coming by," Kagome murmured. When she tried to rise, however, the arm around her shoulder held her fast. Kagome began to tell him that he could let her go now, but a crooked finger nudged her chin to the side and upwards so that she faced him again.

His lips brushed against her brow, soft and chaste. He drew back, hesitated for half a heartbeat, then slowly, pressed his mouth on hers. He kissed her gently but thoroughly. He kissed her long, lusciously and with leisure, even as his heart's tempo began to speed up. He kissed her as if she was the first, the last and the only female in existence. And she kissed him back, reining in her honest ardour to match his unhurried pace, blooming like a well-tended bud beneath his apparent tenderness. At the edge of his senses, Sesshoumaru registered Mrs. Higurashi's fleeting presence close by, probably from behind the window looking out on the porch. He caught the older woman's contented joy before she moved away to give them their privacy.

Time seemed to slow down and pause for them.

Kagome broke the kiss, pulling away with a deep breath. Sesshoumaru rested his forehead against hers, the tips of their noses touching. Her scent was radiant with euphoria and underscored with a hint of desire. The clinical scholar in him knew what chemicals were running rampant in their respective systems, the ones that gave them these wings of heady, chaotic rapture, the ones that coloured their personal scents with tones of ecstasy and restless yearning, but at the moment, his thoughts were far, far away from identifying bliss-inducing compounds.

Kagome swallowed hard before speaking.

"Will you come again tomorrow?"

"I will visit every night," he promised. "And when your mother thinks you are ready to go back to your apartment, I will take you there."

"Mama can't be blamed for being over-protective under the circumstances," Kagome chuckled somewhat ruefully. "Goodnight, Sesshoumaru."

This time, he let her go, but he did not move from his spot.

A quarter of an hour after Kagome took her leave, Mrs Higurashi emerged. She placed a mug of hot tea next to Sesshoumaru.

"Thank you for coming to see Kagome. When you're done with the tea, just leave the mug out here. Goodnight, Sesshoumaru," she said with a soft, kind smile. Sesshoumaru murmured his thanks. Quietly, she padded back inside the house, leaving the youkai alone in the tranquil night.

As she settled down to get some sleep, Kagome felt the sudden, powerful sweep of Sesshoumaru's aura. Her own powers, inactive for some years now, woke gently like a child stirring from deep slumber. _He's still out there,_ she thought in wonder. The feeling of being blanketed by his presence was extremely reassuring. The memory of their very recent kiss made her heart flutter and her cheeks warm.

At a pre-arranged time the next night, just as he promised, Sesshoumaru arrived at the shrine. As he crested the steps, he caught Kagome's scent, mingling with the fragrance of hot tea. When he passed under the torrii, he could see her small, black-haired figure, seated at the edge of the porch. There were two steaming mugs beside her.

Kagome waved her hand in greeting, smiling a smile that made his heart soar.


End file.
